Symphony
by hailbabel
Summary: Charlotte attempts to draw Isabella out of her shell, and the two come to a symphonic crecendo.


The Wells' house on Greek Street was unabashedly noisy this evening. The riotous sound of laughter emanated from within, and a warm light spilled out of its windows. It was well past a respectable hour, but they were not respectable people. A gentleman, of sorts, was seen out the front door by another gentleman, of sorts. He adjusted his breeches surreptitiously as he strode out into the night.

William North reached out and extinguished the lantern on the doorstep to signal that no more culls would be taken this evening. Even harlots needed a rest every now and again. Not that there seemed to be much sign of another cull. The street was deserted. A coolness had settled on London, wet with the on-again-off-again rain. It was enough to make one long for a nightcap and a warm bed. With one last glance up and down the street, he closed the door with a snap. No one would be coming to call for the night.

The warm, flickering light of a fire spilled out into the foyer from the kitchen along with a gale of laughter. Hannah, Fanny, And Nancy were gathered around a bottle of gin, and Charlotte was leaning over to stoke a bit more life into the fire. When she was satisfied with the flames, she turned to take her favorite chair by the table. Hannah finished pouring herself a generous glass and passed the bottle to Charlotte. Only when she had a nice finger of gin did she tune back into the conversation.

Hannah was in stitches as she described her latest cull. She wagged her her little finger. "I wasn't sure if it was 'is pintle, or a baby bird!" The other ladies guffawed.

Rani entered, having just cleaned up after her last cull.

"For heaven's sake, I thought he'd never leave!"

"Had yourself a marathon fuck, eh?" said Nancy, taking a swig of her drink.

Rani uttered a snort. "Hardly. Had a bit too much gin, I spent most of the time trying to get him up."

A smart rap on the door announced a visitor. Charlotte rolled her eyes as Pa muttered in annoyance.

"Go away," he shouted. "Even wretches need their sleep!"

But the noise came again, more insistent this time.

"I've got it, Pa." Charlotte heaved herself out of her chair with more than a little bit of irritation. "I'm sure he can polish his own knob."

Charlotte cracked the door open, ready to tell off whoever was knocking at this hour.

The sight that greeted her was by far more pleasant than she had imagined-one Izabella Fitzwilliam. Specifically, the column of her throat, and pale bosom. Isabella was a full head taller than Charlotte, and Charlotte often had to look up when speaking to her in close quarters.

Charlotte's face broke into a grin and she swung her door open wide.

"What a pleasant surprise. It's not often we get to host such fine company."

Isabella's lips curved gently upward as she stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her. "Always so cheeky," she remarked. "Company is exactly what I was after. I couldn't stand to be alone in that house for one more second."

"Come on then, love. We were all just sitting down to a drink."

Isabella stopped in the foyer, pressing her lips together.

"Are you sure? I've never really been around your family. You don't mind if I-I mean, I'm not intruding am I?"

Charlotte couldn't help the unladylike snort that escaped her.

"You've seen me starkers. I think it's okay if you join us for a little drink."

Isabella turned a pretty shade of pink in the gloom, and Charlotte felt a twinge she couldn't quite place.

Everyone was quite pleased to see Isabella, who had dressed down to come. She often made visits to Greek Street, opting for less sumptuous fabrics so as not to be noticed. She'd chosen an appealing cornflower blue dress tonight. Usually, she spirited away to Charlotte's room and away from prying eyes, but it seemed as though sex was not on her mind tonight-at least not yet. Having her for a drink with the rest of the house would be a rare treat.

Nancy had kicked a spare chair up to the table, and poured Isabella a generous glass of gin. "Have a little drink with us, your ladyship," she said with a wink.

Isabella's murmured thanks was lost as Rani took up the tale of her last cull again.

"Kept calling it his 'serpent'! Couldn't keep his serpent awake long enough to find me cunny, let alone use it." Rani rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"Did you finish him?" asked Fanny, rewrapping Kitty in her arms.

"Finish him? Could hardly start him, could I?" All of the girls had a good cackle a that. "Suppose I'll just owe him one?"

"Bollocks to that," Charlotte spat, taking a swig of her drink. "He had his time. Not our fault his todger couldn't rise to the occasion."

"Suppose he ought to have less to drink next time so his little soldier'll march," Nancy put in.

Rani barked a laugh. "One thing I can say for Mister Finnegan, 'e's got more of a major than a soldier, if you know what I mean."

This sent the ladies into an uproar of laughter again.

Charlotte snorted into her drink, the liquid burning in the back of her throat. This ungainly display caused yet more howling. Hannah barely kept her seat, and Nancy banged her birch on the hardwood floor.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Charlotte stole a glance at Isabella next to her. She was sat primly in her seat, her gaze cast down into her drink. She was smiling quietly into her cup, tracing a finger around the rim. Charlotte was struck at once by her quiet, statuesque beauty but felt that same twinge again. It was something she couldn't put her finger on.

The rest of the night went on in much the same way. The ladies of the house were in fine form, exchanging stories about their latest culls. It had been a typically busy, strange Saturday night. All of them were tupped to pieces, and had made a pretty penny, but not without incident. Aside from Rani's sleeping serpent, Hannah had had a man who had wished her to step on his coin purse and call him terrible names. He'd eyed Nancy, but insisted she didn't have the right look. It had to be Hannah.

Isabella had blushed all the way down to her stays at that story. She didn't comment, but her little smile said she was finding the stories amusing.

Fanny had taken a cull while Nancy minded the baby. From her description, it sounded like he'd never been with a woman at all.

"I felt sorry for him, honestly! He fumbled so much I thought his cock was going to fall off."

The boy had muttered nervously through the encounter and finished so quickly that Fanny felt sorry and only charged him half.

"Shame on you, girl!" Nancy said. "Why didn't you charge him the whole half hour?"

"I still think I over-charged him. He didn't even use half my cunt!"

There was a choked cough next to Charlotte, and she looked over to see Isabella red in the face, gin dripping onto her dress.

"Oh, Charlotte. You ought to get your lady up stairs and out of those wet clothes 'afore they stain." Nancy said with a sly smirk.

Charlotte swatted at Nancy playfully.

"It's only gin, I think she'll be fine," Charlotte said quietly, more for Isabella's sake than Nancy's, searching her expression to see what could be seen.

Isabella lifted her eyes to meet Charlotte's and some of the tension eased out of her. Her face always told a story, even when she wasn't speaking. A quirk of her brow, or a twitch of her lips could say a thousand different things, and Charlotte had spent a lot of time cataloging all the subtleties there. Just now, her eyes were bright and wide, her muscles relaxed, and her lips turned up in a genuine, if tiny, smile.

Charlotte stole glances at Isabella for the rest of the night until the rest of the girls had filtered out of the kitchen and off to bed. Each time she wondered if perhaps Isabella had turned to stone, she was so still. When they were finally alone, she leaned over to whisper.

"You know, you're allowed to talk here." She smiled so Isabella would know she was at least half-joking.

Isabella cracked a shy smile.

"Of course. I just… never was that way."

"What way is that?"

Isabella seemed to take a long time to think about this, swirling the last drop of gin in her cup.

"I don't think I can express myself the way you do." Her long lashes shaded her eyes, and the dying fire left her face in shadow. "It's like a different language, and I do not speak it."

Margret had once told Charlotte that Nancy was a secret, not like the rest of them. In a way, she supposed Isabella was the same. Her body was not pawed over, not bought and sold for pleasure. But Nancy spoke her mind. There wasn't a thought in her head that she didn't speak when it suited her. Isabella was entirely different. She was like still water, calm and placid on the surface, and unknowable underneath. The thought of it was foreign to Charlotte, and she felt a twinge of sadness for it.

"I think you can," she said, chasing away that niggling little feeling before it could take root. "I think you can sing."

Isabella's careful expression finally changed. A wrinkle furrowed her brow and Charlotte cataloged a new look. She was perplexed.

"Come on, dove. I'll show you." Charlotte stood, and held out her hand for Isabella, who took it tentatively, unfolding herself slowly from her seat. The two made their way up to Charlotte's room, as they had many times before, and made to undress, as they had so many other times. This part was nothing new.

"I thought you were going to teach me to sing," Isabella needled good-naturedly. "This is a tune I've heard before."

"Have you? Because I've not heard a whisper of it." As many times as they had lain together, Isabella had hardly let out a whimper. Her panting and writhing always told the tale of her pleasure, but she was careful to keep a hand over her mouth or to cover her face with a pillow instead of cry out.

At first, Charlotte had been unsure, and careful so as not to invoke past wounds or overstep. Their first time had been sweet, and tentative, but that was only a few notes to a song that could be so much more. Now, after so many whispered yes's and please's, Charlotte was ready to hear her lover a little more fully.

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to take Isabella right there, against the door, all panting and thrusting under her skirts. But that wasn't the way. This wasn't for her, it was bigger than that. Instead, she slipped her arms around Isabella's waist from behind. Isabella's hands reached out to cover Charlotte's softly, her fingers tracing Charlotte's knuckles delicately. Her touch was so soft that it may have been the moonlight.

"Can I see you?" Charlotte asked.

Isabella's shoulders quirked with the question.

"You've seen me before," she said.

Charlotte thought about that for a moment. "But what about tonight? What about now? You can always say 'no'."

Isabella turned to look over her shoulder, and brought Charlotte's knuckles to her mouth for a kiss. "Yes, you can see me," she said.

Gently, without haste, Charlotte began to undo the trappings of Isabella's dress. Layer by layer she revealed her lover until Isabella stood clad only in moonlight. Her skin was fair and smooth, shadow rippling in the curves of her shoulder blades, spilling down her back. The planes of her body were pooled in cool silver-blue, and Charlotte thought for a moment that she was a statue for her stillness.

Isabella turned slowly and Charlotte took her time admiring the way her feet padded softly, the flex of her legs as they turned. Her dark hair was swept over one shoulder, velvety black on her starlit skin. And her eyes were large and searching. There was a question there, but her lips did not speak it.

"You're beautiful," Charlotte breathed. Isabella turned a faint pink, and began to wring her hands.

Charlotte took those hands and pulled Isabella close, reaching behind herself to lead Isabella to the laces of her dress.

"Me next," she said. Isabella chewed her lip as her fingers felt around for the fastenings. They were leaned in close enough to warm each other with their bodies. Close enough that Charlotte could smell the fading scent of mint and rosemary. Charlotte leaned up to close the gap in their height difference, brushing her lips against Isabella's jaw and was rewarded with a little sigh of joy.

The layers of her dress slipped off between them, but Charlotte was more occupied with the woman before her. Feather-light, she kissed Isabella's exposed skin. First the column of her throat, then the curve of her clavicle. This time the smooth plane of her shoulder, this time the soft swell at the top of a breast. Her kisses earned her a fluttery little panting as Isabella fumbled away Charlotte's clothing until they were finally both naked as the night.

Charlotte liked the way their bodies fit together, their curves sliding over one another as they both caressed and grasped each other. Isabella's breasts pressed heavy against her own, and Charlotte fancied she could feel her heartbeat picking up. Or perhaps it was her own.

Ordinarily, the pace would have been murder to Charlotte, but she was so curious to see what may happen that Isabella was the first to become impatient. She uttered a little eager whimper. Her normally gentle hands grasped suddenly at Charlottes waist, locking their bodies together. Isabella scraped her teeth against Charlotte's neck, as though she wanted to bite her there. The rasp of teeth on her skin made Charlotte shiver.

"Do you want something, dove? It's okay, you can tell me." Her tone was even and patient as her hands stilled on Isabella's body, waiting.

"I… want to take you to bed." Isabella pulled away just enough to meet Charlotte's gaze. Her eyes were wide and dark with lust. The calm waters of her gaze were beginning to stir. "Please," she added, barely a whisper.

Charlotte quelled the urge to push her down onto the bed, but couldn't help her cheekiness. "Then take me to bed."

Isabella's answering chuckle was a welcome sound, a soft tumble of notes in the darkness close to her ear. She drew Charlotte to the bed, laying down and leading Charlotte over her body. Finally, Charlotte allowed herself to capture Isabella's lips with the passion she was craving. A sharp intake of breath told her this was the right move and suddenly Isabella's nails were rasping up her sides.

"It's okay to tell me you like it," Charlotte murmured against her lover's lips.

Isabella gulped a breath as they parted. "I feel like I'm on fire," she breathed.

"I'm going to use my mouth now," Charlotte said. "But I want you to use yours."

Charlotte pressed a kiss to the swell of Isabella's breast. Tender at first, but then she sucked the flesh into her mouth hard, running her hands up to tease as well. The sharp pang and pleasure made Isabella to dip her head back against the pillow and finally it came. A strangled moan escaped her, tumbling from her lips in broken notes, and quickly cut off as Isabella clasped a hand to her mouth.

"Don't," said Charlotte. "I want to hear you."

"There are rules?"

"There are now." Charlotte grinned cheekily.

"I don't know that I agreed to that."

"Who's tupping whom? I get to make the rules. And I want to hear you."

"I don't want to wake anyone."

"There's no one here. It's just us."

Isabella looked as though she might object, but Charlotte held her gaze.

"There's no one else in the whole world," she said. "We're all alone."

The air was so still and quiet that Charlotte could almost believe it for herself. It wasn't true, of course but she hoped it was comforting.

"Then don't stop," Isabella said.

Charlotte returned to Isabella's breasts and was rewarded with another pleasured moan, this time more confident. Charlotte hummed her satisfaction, sending vibrations through the flesh against her mouth. Needing to hear more, she moved lower, seeking a more tender spot.

Charlotte was down between Isabella's thighs now, wanting nothing more than to bring her lover to a hard, crashing orgasm. It would be such a simple, satisfying thing to do. But she stilled herself, catching Isabella's gaze and waiting.

The look she received was adorably wanton.

"Don't torture me so!"

Charlotte blinked placidly.

"Take me in your mouth, or kill me now. I cannot bear the waiting!"

"So dramatic, Isabella." Charlotte teased, but she set her mouth to work licking and sucking at that most sensitive of places. Her efforts were rewarded with a sound from above. It started low, a hum in the back of the throat. Slowly at first, but building to match the fevered pitch of Isabella's desire. When she could feel the edge looming, Charlotte withdrew. She did not want to end their song quite so soon.

Isabella tugged Charlotte up her body to take her lips in a kiss. Her fingers wound into Charlotte's hair, and her long legs enfolded their bodies together. Her grasping was hungry and desperate, her breath coming in pants.

Charlotte fitted her hips against the juncture of Isabella's thighs, pressing into her body until she could feel the heat pooling there against her own desire. Isabella's own hips rocked up against her, seeking that hot pressure. When they found a rhythm together, Isabella let out a long low note. It sounded like triumph, and Charlotte found herself echoing the sound.

Isabella's fingertips were digging into Charlotte's arse, urging her faster, and Charlotte found it immensely difficult to temper her own lust. Instead, she reached between them, stroking, trying to focus on something besides the consuming fire between her legs. But then Isabella leaned up to steal a long, deep kiss. Her lips wandered over Charlotte's neck and chest and suddenly she was the one panting and gasping. Together, they writhed, matching each other in a hot staccato.

Charlotte's restraint was crumbling, and soon she was rocking hard against Isabella and the pair were lost in their frantic, desperate moaning that filled the room. Charlotte's hunger was such that she hardly recognized herself or the animal sounds she was making. For a moment, she felt outside herself and wondered distantly if perhaps this is how culls felt when they were rutting. The faint creak of the bed frame echoed their movements, an underscore to the music of their pleasure.

"Please," Isabella begged, any notions of modesty long forgotten, "don't stop. Don't ever stop!"

Charlotte obliged her lover, screwing her eyes shut against her own rising need for release. Beneath her, she could feel Isabella tensing, muscles coiling around that rising heat, circling ever closer to the sweetest breaking point.

Isabella was coming unglued, her body arching upward against Charlotte, one hand grasping the sheets, the other wound painfully tight into Charlotte's riotous curls. In the midst of her pleasure, Isabella let out a sweet cry and Charlotte could not hold herself back any more. She called out to match her lover, her own voice resounding with satisfaction. She matched her lover note for note, their discordant chorus coming to a hungry pace.

"Please…!"

"Fuck!"

It had been Isabella that called out as her orgasm rippled through her, swelling into a curse, and giving up an unabashed cry of pleasure.

"Charlotte!" Isabella called out one last time, and Charlotte finally released, the sound of her own name in that dark, and breathy voice too much to withstand. She pressed her lips down hard against Isabella's swallowing her last cry of ecstasy. This one she would keep to herself.

The two of them collapsed into the bed with matched sighs, spent and glowing with the exertion. Their heavy breathing eventually stilled, and the silence that followed was sweet and peaceful. It stretched on for so long that Charlotte thought Isabella had fallen asleep.

"What noise we make," came Isabella's voice in the dark, a hint of embarrassment in her tone.

"We are a symphony," Charlotte said, high on the after-thrill of her orgasm.

Isabella chuckled and reached out to cover Charlotte's hand with her own. Charlotte could hear a breath, an in-take as though Isabella meant to say something, but the moment passed in silence. In the dark, Charlotte could see that she had closed her eyes, her lips curved in a gentle smile. Distantly, she wondered what Isabella had wanted to say.

Charlotte brushed her lips over their joined fingers, and closed her eyes. The last thing she heard as she drifted off was Isabella's gentle breathing, and her soft murmurs in her sleep.


End file.
